


Cap's Shield

by lyssa747



Series: Healing [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7064065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssa747/pseuds/lyssa747
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve helps Bucky get over a particularly bad nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cap's Shield

Bucky had nightmares almost every time he closed his eyes. Or he used to. Yes, they'd been getting less often and less intense, which was nice. But he still woke up frozen with guilt or panic or fear or a combination thereof about twice a week.

Sometimes it wasn't so bad. Sometimes he could shake it off and go back to sleep. But sometimes, it was really bad, and Bucky couldn't get the horrible images out of his mind.

Like tonight.

The nightmares with the people he knew were always the worst. In his nightmares, Bucky watched his body act as if it had a mind of its own, his old metal arm reaching out to strangle someone beneath him. Throwing a punch at someone who was begging him to stop. Digging its fingers into the chest of a face that was screaming in fear. And all the while, he struggled against it. He mentally tried to make himself stop, tried to make his body obey his commands, in the dreams, but it almost never worked. More often than not, Bucky got to watch himself kill innocent people while he was asleep.

He usually didn't realize that he was dreaming, and that's what made it so horrible. The dreams were so similar to his old reality, the images that still haunted him in his waking hours, that Bucky was always surprised when he woke up screaming. When he woke up in his own disheveled bed, his sheets twisted around his ankles, his brow dripping with a cold sweat, and his shoulder aching where his left arm had been removed.

Bucky hadn't dreamed of Steve for a long time. He mostly slaughtered strangers in his nightmares, which was horrible, but easier to get over when morning came. He could push the face of a brunette woman with no relation to him out of his mind, eventually forget about his nightmare as the day progressed. But with his friends, with Steve, Bucky couldn't push his actions out of his mind. Every time he saw Natasha or Sam or Clint or even Tony the day after he had dreamed of killing one of them, he was reminded of the crippling guilt and panic he felt when he woke up.

And it was worse with Steve than with anyone else. Because Steve was... Steve was _his_. And Bucky's own mind was trying to fuck that up and sour it for him.

It'd been bad, but it was bad because he knew it'd actually happened. They were in the air, he and Steve. High above the ground on some sort of aircraft. Bucky was pummeling him, throwing punch after punch. Fighting even though Steve refused to fight back.

He woke up screaming, bolting into a sitting position. The usual sheen of sweat covered his body. Bucky gripped the sheets tight in his hand and bit his tongue, attempting to stop the trembling in his arm and legs. He did his best to push away the heaviness in his chest.

Steve came into the room silently, sitting on Bucky's twin sized bed and causing the creak of the mattress to split the air.

"Hey," Steve whispered, touching Bucky's knee with care.

Bucky let out a puff of air and pushed his hair out of his face. "Hey, he rasped. He couldn't look at Steve. It'd only bring back... He couldn't... He closed his eyes.

Steve pulled him into a hug, and Bucky rested his head on the blond's shoulder. God. Steve knew how to make him stop shaking, that was for sure.

"I don't want to be alone right now," he breathed, still not opening his eyes. Steve was simultaneously making the guilt he felt better and worse. Bucky didn't want to deal with it on his own, not tonight. Not after seeing what he'd done again.

"Come with me to my room," Steve insisted, breaking up the hug. "We don't have to sleep, if you don't want to. We can watch a movie. I have a bunch that I haven't seen yet."

"Okay," Bucky agreed, not even bothering to stay away from Steve tonight. He needed Steve near him as a reminder that what he had done wasn't real... Or it wasn't recent. It hadn't happened tonight. Steve stood up and Bucky followed suit, plucking a hair tie from his night stand and slipping his hand into Steve's firm grasp.

 

 Bucky tried to keep his attention on the movie, some story about a dog that Steve had decided that Bucky  _had_ to see, but he kept zoning out and returning to his nightmare. Steve was so bloody, his face bruised and battered from Bucky's beating. He was caught off guard when he looked over to Steve and found him staring.

"What?" Bucky snapped, then closed his eyes with a grimace. "I'm sorry. My mind is... Somewhere else."

Steve offered a nod to acknowledge the last part of Bucky's statement, then continued. "You're shaking like crazy." He raised his eyebrows, clearly concerned.

Bucky paused for a moment, halting his movement. He hadn't even realized that he'd been trembling, and now he was hyper aware of it. He clenched his teeth. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. I guess I am."

Steve hit a button on the remote control that stopped the TV and stood up, making his way over to his closet. He pulled out a heavy sweatshirt and tossed it towards Bucky. Bucky took a moment to examine it. It was soft, clearly worn on a regular basis. It was a dark blue, and on the back, there was a - oh fucking God, this was suddenly hilarious - a graphic of Steve's shield.

Bucky bit his lip to control the laughter he could feel bubbling up in his chest. He couldn't however, conceal the smirk that had made its way onto his face.

 _Of course_ Steve Rogers unironically owned Captain America merchandise.

 _Of fucking course he did_.

Bucky slipped the sweatshirt over his shoulders, taking care to cover his left side using his right hand. The sweatshirt was a size or two too big for him, but comfortable nonetheless. The whole time, Bucky couldn't stop smirking.

Steve was looking at him sideways. "What?"

And that was it. Bucky burst into a fit of laughter, grinning fondly at his boyfriend. "It's just... You own your own merchandise." He said between giggles. Oh God, Bucky was _not_ fucking giggling. He attempted to stifle his laughter, but it only made him want to laugh harder.

Steve was adorable when he was confused. His lips parted slightly and his nose scrunched up. "Why is that funny?"

Bucky wanted to wrap Steve in his embrace and protect him forever. "... It's not," Bucky smiled, reaching out for Steve's hand. "It's just cute."

Steve offered him a disoriented half smile and took his hand. "You look cute in that."

Bucky stuck out his tongue playfully and scooted closer to Steve. He ensured that they were pressed against each other, as Steve's presence was a welcome and needed comfort. He laid his head on Steve's arm and turned his attention back to the television, which Steve had unpaused.

And just like that, Steve had managed to banish Bucky's nightmare from his mind.


End file.
